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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202652">Revolution of Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/storythief11/pseuds/storythief11'>storythief11</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Realicide - Grej (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crossover, Guilt, Human Sacrifice, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have no idea what I'm doing, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Rating May Change, Resurrection, Spoilers, The Liberation of Night, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, goddamn it communalist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:16:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/storythief11/pseuds/storythief11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Moralist dies, Communalist makes an unwise deal with an unknown ideology to bring him back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Communalist/Moralist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Old soul. Where did you go, old soul?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no clue why I wrote this, so just work with me here. </p><p>*SPOILERS AHEAD* </p><p>Some context for those of you here who don't know what one of these is. For unfamiliar Fallen London fans, Realicide is a Youtube series wherein a bunch of personified, impossible ideologies team up to go kill the political compass. It's pretty funny, and I'd advise looking it up and watching it, especially since there are spoilers here. For unfamiliar Realicide fans, Fallen London is a video game set in an underground version of Victorian London filled with strangeness. It's really good, and I'd advise looking it up and playing it because, again, spoilers. </p><p>This is primarily a Realicide fic, by the way; one of the major characters just happens to be the Liberation of Night. </p><p>So, uh, enjoy whatever the hell this is. </p><p>This is probably going to be pretty terrible, by the way, because I'm running on five hours of sleep right now, but what the hell. Constructive criticism would be very much appreciated.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Their breath froze in the air. This place - they didn’t know this place. They didn’t know how they got here. The last thing they remembered was Moralist… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moralist… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was bleeding out in their arms. Darwinist was laughing - why was the bastard laughing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d just killed their friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had been when it struck them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d always thought the world was kind - Moralist had shown them the error of that way of thinking, first with his words, and then with his blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They clenched their fists. They saw it now. The world was cruel, and evil, and it would be judged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end would come, and the world would burn. As it should. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps. They looked up just in time to see another figure approaching - an eerie, strange being, clothed in black, peering at them with mad eyes as dark as the space between stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Communalist - or is it Cult Communalist now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get away from us, </span>
  <em>
    <span>outsider</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” they spat. “You're not welcome.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure raised a hand to his chest, an affronted look crossing his face. “Not welcome? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not welcome?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I let you into my territory, and you say I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not welcome?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill shot down Cult Communalist’s spine as they realized where they were. This place was oh-so-cold, yet the buildings around them raged with fires. It was silent, yet filled with screams. Voices and minds and people with the heads of animals walked through the streets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d heard stories about this place, and about the entity that lived here. Stories of a mad ideology that sought to destroy all light and law in the universe, an ideology so insane even Darwinist thought he was crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was one of the off-corners, the one who called himself the Liberation of Night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want from us?” They growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, here’s the thing,” Liberation of Night said. “Reality is unjust. All laws are unequal and keep the population down, and this includes the laws of biology.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...what are you saying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying that, if you and I work together, we could destroy the very laws that bind us and build something new from the ashes. I can create a world of pure anarchy, and you can create a </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span> communalist commune, where everything belongs to everyone and everyone is happy.” He leaned in close to their face, staring them dead in the eyes. It almost looked like he was leering at them. </span>
  <span>“You might even be able to bring Moralist back to life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Briefly, a look of shock and perhaps hope crossed Cult Communalist’s face, before being replaced by cold anger and grief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prove it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A grin. “Come with me, and you will see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liberation of Night started down the street. Cult Communalist looked around at the horrifically twisted streets, then back at the fleeting figure in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made their choice and followed him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I still have no idea what I'm doing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stupid Communalist. Couldn't they take a joke? </p>
<p>They were supposed to be fighting the realists, and then they went and <em> befriended </em> one of the fucking things? The hell was wrong with them? </p>
<p>Stupid Communalist. </p>
<p>That thought had been playing on a loop in Darwinist’s head for the past few days. No one had seen a single sign of Cult Communalist, although, then again, none of them really cared. Especially not Darwinist, or, at least, that was what he was telling himself. </p>
<p>He shouldn’t be missing the damn kid, but he was. It just felt...odd not to have them around, empathizing with every damn creature they ran across and stealing his toothbrush. And perhaps he may have felt a little guilty for driving them crazy… </p>
<p>What the hell was he saying? He didn’t regret killing that realist, and he didn’t miss Communalist. </p>
<p>Still, there was something...wrong with what that kid had become. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something about the way they moved and spoke gave off the impression that they were much, much more dangerous than regular old Communalist. </p>
<p>This point, it seemed, was proven right when he woke up in the middle of the night to find them crouched at the foot of his bed. </p>
<p>“What the fuck?!” He swore, sitting upright. He reached for the knife he kept under his pillow, but to his horror, it was gone. </p>
<p>“Hello, Darwinist,” Cult Communalist sneered. It might’ve been him seeing things, but he could’ve sworn their eyes were...<em> glowing.  </em></p>
<p>“Where the fuck is my knife?!” He growled. “And what the hell are you doing in my room?” </p>
<p>“Oh, you mean this knife?” They asked, pulling his knife from their sleeve. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” </p>
<p>Then, before he could respond, they smashed his head against the headboard, knocking him unconscious, and dragged him out the window. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Ingsoc threw open the door, only to find it empty. </p>
<p>Strange. He could’ve sworn he heard Darwinist yelling in here earlier. </p>
<p>A cold breeze blew through the window. He started towards it, aiming to close it - the damn thing was annoying, and if Darwinist wanted to climb out the window to do Party-knows-what at night, then he could come in through the door in the morning like a normal person. </p>
<p>Then he saw it. </p>
<p>Bloodstains and fabric scraps were caught in the barbed wire lining the window. This wouldn’t have been abnormal if the fabric didn’t look similar to what Communalist used to wear… </p>
<p>Footsteps echoed behind him. He turned around to see Egoist enter the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. </p>
<p>“What happened?” He asked. “Did Darwinist kill someone again?” </p>
<p>“No, he’s missing.” Ingsoc replied. </p>
<p>“He’s probably taking a piss in the woods, then." </p>
<p>That was the most likely scenario, but something about this still felt rather...strange. He resolved to check the security footage in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Goddamn it, Communalist, this is not how you deal with grief.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two Altars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for taking so long. There's some art at the end as compensation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cult Communalist dropped Darwinist's unconscious body on the cold copper floor. Their eyes scanned the darkness of Liberation's fortress, searching for any sign of the chaotic entity. </p>
<p>A giggle erupted from nearby. Cult Communalist spun around, coming face to face with Liberation. Literally; he was right in their face, creepy cat-like eyes wide and dripping with madness. </p>
<p>"Did you bring the body?" He asked. </p>
<p>Cult Communalist kicked Darwinist. </p>
<p>"Excellent," Liberation said. "Follow me." </p>
<p>He began to make his way down the hall, footsteps rattling hollowly against the metal floors. Cult Communalist gathered Darwinist's body in their arms and began to follow. </p>
<p>They plunged into the darkness, until copper tiles turned to brass, then stone, then dirt, then something that felt like flesh before returning to brass. Lights flickered in the darkness and were quickly smothered. Cult Communalist made the mistake of looking directly at one of them, and shuddered at the feeling of bees crawling up their back. </p>
<p>Finally, the walls seemed to open up, and after so long in darkness, they were almost blinded by the twilight filling the chamber they were now in. </p>
<p>The chamber wasn't much; it appeared to be the remains of some sort of chapel, if chapel floors were made of snakes. The weight of unreality was so thick it was almost smothering; Cult Communalist could barely see, barely breathe, barely walk through the thick, heavy snakeskins lying on the floor, but they soldiered on. </p>
<p>At the end of the chapel, there lay an altar. Two, in fact - at least, that's what it looked like. It was almost as if someone had tried to fuse the altars together, but had given up halfway and left one or the other phasing out of existence. The most opaque at the moment was a sturdy marble one, draped heavy with chains, but if Cult Communalist looked closely enough, they could see another one - this one made of lapis lazuli and painted in strange colors that burned their mind and memory. </p>
<p>They glanced at Liberation for confirmation. He nodded. </p>
<p>They lowered Darwinist onto the altar and began winding the chains around his body until they were reasonably certain he wouldn't be able to escape. Liberation padlocked the chains, then turned to Cult Communalist. </p>
<p>"Don't forget the most important part," he said. </p>
<p>A twinge of horror, anxiety, and general repulsion twisted in Cult Communalist's gut. "Do we have to?" </p>
<p>Liberation cocked his head. "Do you want your friend back?" </p>
<p>A nod. </p>
<p>"Then you know what to do. Go get his body, bring it back, and then..." He gave them a twisted grin. "Then the fun begins." </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Bonus art</strong>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wrote this at 11:30 at night, and I have no regrets. I almost certainly characterized someone wrong, but hey, I tried.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A spot of grave-robbing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry if it's bad. It's been a long month for me, and I haven't had much time to edit.</p><p>Minor warning for briefly mentioned blood and dead bodies. Minor creep-out warning for giant spiders.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Utopian's realm wasn't supposed to be this cold. Cult Communalist was pretty sure that they knew why that was, but they pushed the thought aside, drowning it in the mindless monotony of digging... </p><p>...and digging... </p><p>...and digging. </p><p>The pile of upturned earth grew bigger and bigger as the makeshift grave beneath them grew ever deeper. The further down they went, the more Cult Communalist began to wonder if they were digging in the wrong place. </p><p>Then, six feet under, their shovel struck something that definitely wasn't dirt. </p><p>They fell to their knees, brushing away the last of the dirt with their hands. Sure enough, a large box lay beneath them. It was one of those old traveling trunks, not meant for the purpose it currently served. Scratched into the lid were the words "<strike>property of Momentist</strike> not anymore! - S". </p><p>...well, at least Utopian had the sense to bury him, even if it was in a stolen trunk. </p><p>Cult Communalist grabbed one of the trunk's handles and began attempting to haul it out of the hole. It took half an hour and several probably torn ligaments before they succeeded, but they were, eventually, able to pull it out and drag it several feet away from the hole. Then they attempted to open it, but the lid didn't budge. They peered at the latch, which was difficult to see in the inky darkness. </p><p>Someone had padlocked the trunk shut. </p><p>They scowled. While they had no desire to see their friend's corpse, the trunk was too heavy to carry back to Liberation's realm. Now they might not even be able to bring anything back at all, and they doubted that Liberation's patience was infinite. </p><p>Their eyes fell on a nearby rock, and an idea flashed across their mind. They picked it up and began bashing it against the padlock. After a minute, it gave, and they tossed aside the rock, wrenched off the lock, and pushed the lid open. </p><p>The stench of blood and rotting flesh washed over them. Cult Communalist gagged, covering their mouth with their dirt-stained sleeve. They didn't want to look at the body, but out of the corner of their eye, they could still see jelled blood and decaying limbs... </p><p>They grabbed the blanket Liberation had given them and wound it around Moralist's body. Gently, they picked him up - he was dead, long dead, and he couldn't feel it, but they wanted to be gentle even still - and stood. He was...heavier than they remembered- </p><p>
  <em>-Blood seeped into their clothes and crusted under their fingernails as he gasped his final breath in their arms-</em>
</p><p>-but they could deal with it. They set off into the darkness, determined to make it back before sunrise. So dead-set and focused were they on their trek that they never noticed the eyes watching them... </p>
<hr/><p>The biggest problem with checking the security tapes in Darwinist's room was that he'd cut all the wires in every camera except one. The second biggest problem was that he had a hobby of trolling Ingsoc by doing some rather...unpleasant things in front of said camera. </p><p>Still, Ingsoc had to know. </p><p>He booted up the recording - idly noting that the live feed was currently out - and began searching through the tapes for last night's timestamp. </p><p>After rewinding to the proper time, he sat back to watch. </p><p>For the first few hours, there was nothing of note. Then, sometime around midnight, a sudden flicker of movement caught Ingsoc's eye. </p><p>The window was pushed open, and a figure slunk through it. Their back was turned to the camera, and it took him a minute to recognize them as Communalist - well, Cult Communalist. </p><p>They glanced around the room, and he finally caught a glimpse of their face - sullen and sallow, red eyes dull with grief. Once they were certain that no one else was in the room, they reached into their pocket and pulled out a pocket mirror, which they carefully set down on the floor. Then they made their way to Darwinist's bed and gently reached under his pillow, pulling out a knife which they slipped into their sleeve. </p><p>They climbed onto the foot of his bed and crouched there for a few seconds, waiting. The action shook the bed slightly, which was enough to wake Darwinist. </p><p>"What the fuck?!" He shouted, sitting upright. After so long in silence, the sudden sound slightly startled Ingsoc. </p><p>Darwinist reached for the knife under his pillow, but a look of what might've been terror crossed his face when he noticed it was gone. </p><p>Cult Communalist said something else that the camera didn't pick up (Ingsoc added a mental note to bug the house with more microphones). Darwinist responded with some profanity-laden questions, which Cult Communalist responded to by pulling his knife out and waving it around a bit. </p><p>Then, so fast that Ingsoc barely registered what happened, Cult Communalist sprang towards Darwinist and slammed his head against the headboard. He went limp, and they began dragging him towards the window. They dragged him out - his clothes catching on the barbed wire he'd lined the window with - and vanished into the night. </p><p>Ingsoc sat back. He'd known Darwinist had killed one of the realists, and Communalist - soft as they were - had completely lost their shit over it. He'd never expected them to try and enact something as petty as vengeance, though - and he was sure it was vengeance, because Communalist had no other reason that he knew of to be this violent towards someone. He couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, happened with that realist that made them want Darwinist dead. </p><p>The mirror in the footage trembled. Eight pairs of delicate spider's legs, each one the length of Ingsoc's hand, unfolded from within the mirror (how was that possible?), followed shortly by their owner, a spider the size of a decent-sized rat. It barely seemed to fit through the mirror's surface, wriggling and writhing a bit and accidentally flipping itself over after making its way through. It scuttled and righted itself, then disappeared under Darwinist's bed and out of the camera's viewing range. </p><p>Less than a minute later, the screen went black in a flurry of spider silk and spider limbs. A tremendous scream erupted at the same time, and it took Ingsoc a moment to realize that it wasn't from the footage. It took him another moment to realize that it was coming from Egoist's room. </p><p>He jumped to his feet and raced out the door, leaving the monitor unattended. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"S" is Soulist, by the way. Why does Utopian have a box that was stolen from Momentist by Soulist? I have no idea. I just kind of wanted to make a joke, since everything's about to go to shit soon. </p><p>Also, I have decided that, henceforth, Soulist and Liberation of Night are separate (albeit related) characters. Why? First, because it makes for a better story, and second, the Liberation of Night has a hierarchy and I don't think Soulist would approve of that.</p><p>By the way, if you guys want me to start adding art at the end of every chapter like I did in the last one, let me know.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sacrifice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Caution: blood sacrifice ahead. Also giant spiders. You've been warned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A swift trek through the night to Liberation's fortress. The return trip was slower, but given that Cult Communalist was carrying a body, it was understandable. </p><p>Liberation was nowhere to be found, so they had to make their way to the eerie chapel on their own. Their memory of the path wasn't great, not helped by the darkness, but they eventually found their way there. </p><p>Liberation was waiting for them in the same place he'd been before, his hands folded behind his back. He smirked at them when he saw them. </p><p>"Let's see this body," he said. </p><p>Cult Communalist approached the altar, which shifted from the marble one to the lapis one. They gently lay Moralist's body down on it, and Liberation undid the blanket with pale, slender fingers. </p><p>Cult Communalist looked up as the blanket unfolded, their stomach churning at the mere thought of looking at their dead friend's body. Liberation, however, didn't seem to mind. He let out a <em>tsk</em>ing sound under his breath. </p><p>"Hmm. Punctured lungs, skewered heart. Nothing a little unreality can't fix," he grinned up at Cult Communalist, who still maintained their fascination with the cathedral ceiling. Well, it was fascinating, in a way; it was crusted with moving mosaics, but fell away in places, revealing a sky completely devoid of stars and yet still, somehow, emanating a milky white light. </p><p>"You'll have to look eventually, Cultcom. You can't perform the sacrifice with your eyes closed, you know~!" </p><p>Their stomach clenched. They knew they'd have to perform the sacrifice; they just didn't want to see what death and burial had done to him. They'd never liked death; it was a natural part of life, but it was so awful, and to watch someone die was so much worse. Worse, to hold him as he died, to watch as he drew his last desperate, stuttering breath through lungs that could no longer hold air, trying to feed oxygen to a heart that no longer beat. To know that there was nothing they could do to save him. </p><p>But they had a chance to save him now, to start it over, and they forced aside their disgust and horror and anxiety in favor of the thought of seeing him alive once more. </p><p>They were snapped out of their thoughts when they felt a bundle of fabric as warm as a still-beating heart being pressed into their hands. They looked down to see Liberation offering them a small bundle wrapped in a fabric as dark as the endless night outside and as heavy as a boulder. </p><p>They unwound the fabric, briefly losing their breath to the darkness as they saw what it contained. </p><p>A shining dagger, its blade twisted like a serpent. A gem like a spark from some great anvil glittered in its hilt. It was sharp as a wit and, belying its wrappings, was no lighter than a feather and as cold as ice. </p><p>Almost in a trance, they picked up the dagger, letting the scrap of fabric fall to the ground. It fit neatly in their hand, as if it had been forged just for them. </p><p>Liberation stepped back as they approached the altar, dagger in hand. The altar's appearance shifted back to marble, and they raised the dagger above their head, preparing to plunge it into Darwinist's chest- </p><p>The man on the altar twitched. In a moment of weakness, they froze, and when Darwinist let out a loud groan, they knew they didn't have much more time to do this quickly and silently, and the serpents on the floors didn't seem like they'd want to be woken. </p><p>Still, they hesitated, because Darwinist looked...peaceful. Their mind had twisted him into a monster, not helped by his perpetual sneer and his awful personality, but without the murderous glint in his eyes, he seemed... </p><p>...he seemed... </p><p>...like a normal man. He seemed like a normal man, and Communalist was about to plunge a dagger into his chest- </p><p>They lowered the dagger just a bit. Their hands trembled, the blade trembling with it. </p><p>As horrible as Darwinist was, what right did they have to take his life? They were supposed to be <em>better</em>, supposed to be <em>pure</em>, and even if Darwinist was an outsider and a murderer, did he really deserve death? </p><p>Then Darwinist's eyes opened. The sudden surge of <em>hatred</em> that filled them was more than enough to clear the apprehensions from their mind. </p><p>Moralist was pure. He was kind. He'd shown them the error of their ways, shown them how to be <em>better</em>, and Darwinist had killed him. Why should he deserve mercy when he never showed Moralist any? </p><p>Before Darwinist could speak or even scream, they plunged the dagger into his chest. </p><hr/><p>Ingsoc burst into Egoist's room, club in hand. </p><p>"State your distre-" he began, but was cut off by the sight of Egoist in his pajamas, cowering on top of an armchair and panicking like the floor was made of acid and he'd almost stepped in it. </p><p>Had the Party known such a thing as amusement, Ingsoc might've found it hilarious. As it was, it was merely a strange sight to behold. </p><p>"What are you doing?" He asked. </p><p>"THERE'S A SPIDER AFTER ME!! KILL THE FUCKING SPOOK!!" Egoist shrieked. </p><p>"..." </p><p>"Oh, don't look at me like that!" Egoist snapped. "It's displeasing to my ego, and besides, if you'd seen the size of the damn thing-" </p><p>A faint chittering caught Ingsoc's attention. He tuned out Egoist's babbling and made his way over to the bed. </p><p>He knelt down and lifted up one of the sheets covering said bed and obscuring his view of the space beneath it. Eight pairs of beady red eyes met his gaze. </p><p>He lunged backwards as a spider the size of a puppy flung itself out from underneath the bed. It bounced harmlessly off his chest and landed on its back; after a moment of chittering loudly and scrabbling desperately at the air, it began to right itself. Before it could, though, Ingsoc hauled himself to his feet and slammed his foot into its soft, weak underbelly. </p><p>The spider shrieked, exploding in a small pile of arachnid guts on the floor. Its legs went limp. </p><p>"Were there any more?" He asked Egoist, who shook his head. </p><p>"Where did it come from?" Ingsoc pried further. </p><p>"It crawled out of my mirror and tried to rip my eye out," Egoist said, climbing down from the armchair. </p><p>"I'm sure that's just your...what is it? <em>Imagination</em> getting to you-" </p><p>Egoist stormed up to him and pointed at a deep, bleeding cut just under his eye. Any deeper, and it might very easily have cut through the skin to reach bone. </p><p>"...I see." </p><p>The two of them eyed the dead spider warily. </p><p>"Should we tell Grej?" Ingsoc asked. </p><p>Egoist sighed. "Right now, speaking to Grej would not please my ego, but it pleases my ego more to admit that I don't believe we have another choice. The problem is that I don't know <em>where</em> that spook's run off to right now or when he'll be back-" </p><p>The sound of crackling electricity from downstairs interrupted him, and any attempts at finishing the sentence were well and truly cut off when the lights suddenly went out. </p><p>"...ah, fuck," Egoism muttered. "And now the power's out." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this took so long. I've been extremely busy and haven't had any motivation, not helped by the fact that I'm not exactly happy with how this chapter turned out. Still, I hope you enjoyed; leave criticism if you have any, I'd welcome improvements.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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